


Foal

by WendelinTheWriter



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed Odissey
Genre: F/M, Hook-Up, MILFs, Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, there's like a lot of horse synonyms in here folks, we all know Myrrine got around and got it good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 20:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendelinTheWriter/pseuds/WendelinTheWriter
Summary: Being escorted by Brasidas, Myrrine learns she isn't too old to ride an untamed mare.





	Foal

**Author's Note:**

> This happens when Brasidas and Myrrine go to Acadia together, circa level 34-35.

“That seems like an adequate place for us to—”

“We can’t”, said Myrrine from under her cloak. “If we draw attention to ourselves, they might realize we’re heading to Arcadia. We’re already risking too much by using the main roads.”

“Then what will you have us do?”

“Leave this village. Camp somewhere safe nearby, maybe a cave. I’ll change into a simpler outfit, return here by foot, and get us the supplies we need.”

“I could—”

“You can’t. You’re too distinct. You’ll be remembered.”

Brasidas pursed his lips.

“It’s almost as if you’re the one protecting me.”

Myrrine shook her head. People would remember a six feet three inches tall Spartan soldier with rippling muscles, clad in well-oiled armor. She, on the other hand, learned the hard way how to go by unnoticed,

She steered her horse to leave the road and waited behind a tree until Brasidas caught up with her. Then she lowered her cloak.

“Brasidas, the Cult has eyes everywhere. If we get there flashing coin, paying for hospitality and warm meals, they’ll know. They’ll also know where we are heading. We might lose our lead!” she warned him, in a whisper.

“Is the Cult that dangerous?”

“More than you could imagine.”

It was all too much information for young Brasidas. He was by no means a boy, but still young at heart, only dealing with problems that could be solved with enough blades.

“Don’t feel bad.” Offered Myrrine, after some silence. “I suppose you’ve never had to deal with such a situation before.”

“I suppose I haven’t, no. I am sorry I can’t be of more use.”

“I could always use a skilled blade.” she said, flashing him a polite smile. “Come on, let’s find a place to set up camp for the night.”

They soon managed to find a defensible spot, protected by a sharp slope and dense forests. Brasidas busied himself with starting a fire, and Myrrine unpacked, humming the numerous sea shanties she knew by heart, after so many years embodying Fenix. She pretended not to notice Brasidas’ eyes on her, at all times.

“Do you think you’ll return before the sun is down?”

“I hope so. We can’t afford to stay here for two days. I’m only stopping here because I have no supplies. I didn’t buy any back in Sparta because I didn’t want anyone there thinking I’d stay away for long. Acadia is not very far, but it might be a while until we find what we’re looking for.”

Brasidas nodded, like an eager student.

“After this, we’ll only stop for short rests, and that will be it. Acadia is not very far, anyway. We should be there in three days maximum.” Myrrine went on with her lecture.

“Three days without proper rest won’t be too strenuous on you?”

Myrrine had to laugh.

“You have no idea of what I am capable of, boy.”

Brasidas swallowed dry, his eyes travelling through her body. Myrrine had to bite the inside of her cheeks. Many people desired her, and she desired many people, though as of late it didn’t come to the forefront of her mind. She started to think she was getting too old, too wrinkly for desire.

But even a green soldier like Brasidas saw something in her worth desiring.

She could teach him a thing or two.

“Open my dress.” she demanded.

“W-what?”

“I need to change. I can’t open my dress alone. Not this fine dress.”

Myrrine turned around, to face away from him, who approached her with hesitant steps.

“Are you certain this is—”

“Appropriate? My dear Brasidas, I am not royalty. I am but an exiled Spartan longing to reclaim my citizenship.”

“You’re the granddaughter of the great Leonidas!” he argued, though standing right behind her.

“And wouldn’t it be an honor to help me undress? I’m not going to ask again.”

He inhaled sharply, his calloused fingers inexperienced with the ties of fine silk dresses. Still, he managed to get the back of her dress open after a few tries. Myrrine could feel her middle growing warm, throbbing, at the thought of having those fingers touching her instead.

It had been too long of a while.

She wanted to taunt him, make him beg, but she was the one wielding too easily. She slipped out of her dress and turned on her heels to face him.

“Do you want this or not? We won’t have another chance.”

Brasidas could only wordlessly nod as Myrrine approached him and tiptoed to kiss the corner of his lips. Her nipples hardened against the cold metal plate protecting his chest. His lips met hers and Brasidas’ tongue was eager to part her lips, though his hands touched her as if she could break.

He yelped in surprise when Myrrine’s fingers expertly undid the buckles of his chest plate. She could do that with her eyes closed. Her marriage with Nikolao taught her a thing or two. Brasidas slid out of his plate and dropped it to the floor. Within a couple of minutes, he’d be down to his breaches.

“Quick.” breathed Myrrine in his ear. “We can’t take long.”

Brasidas laid down on his bed roll, pliable, and Myrrine got him by surprise: she straddled his face, first, her southern lips touching his face.

“Does that mouth of yours only ever complain?” she said, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

She shuddered, arching her back, when his hands slid up her thighs to hold her hips, and his tongue parted her slit, finding its way to her most sensitive spot. She couldn’t help bucking her hips, swaying them in a riding motion.

Myrrine guided Brasidas’ hands to her breasts so she could move more freely. They were in a bit of a time constraint, being out in the open. A plethora of beings could be watching, waiting to jump them, the Cult of Cosmos included.

Brasidas wasn’t half bad at pleasuring a woman, for a young Spartan soldier. Myrrine grinded against his mouth and the tip of his tongue until all her muscles clenched, and she couldn’t breathe, culminating into a powerful wave of pleasure going through her body.

She had to take a moment to catch her breath, while Brasidas waited, eager, for his turn. He lowered her to the bed roll and settled between her legs, but Myrrine got out of underneath him.

Being laid like an inexperienced bride was never much of her style. She flipped him over, straddling his lap, feeling a rock-hard pressure against the middle of her legs. She reached out to free his erection and guide it to inside of her.

“Have you ever been with many women, Brasidas?” she said, nonchalant, as if a soft mew had not just escaped his lips.

“Not… Not really.”

She moved. Once.

Brasidas’ breath lost its pace.

Nikolao didn’t have experience, either. Spartan soldiers made do without seeing women for months on end. Some men decided to turn into solders because the idea of laying with women didn’t appetize them.

Then, there were men like Brasidas.

Myrrine couldn’t get enough of being ogled at as if she were a shiny new blade.

But…

She was in a bit of rush.

She rode him like she would ride an untamed stallion, too young to know the feeling of a tight rein, touching herself as she went along. A second wave crashed into her while Brasidas yelped and writhed between her powerful thighs.

“Please…” he muttered. “Can I…”

“I don’t think the gods want me to have anymore children. Imagine the chaos if Kassandra had another sibling.” Myrrine said, driving him deep into her with a movement of her hips.

There he spilled his seed, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.

Surely a body so strong it gave birth to two young children could still ride an insatiable foal.


End file.
